Two weeks since Nyxara, and the academy had become a trial, not a sanctuary. The air grew heavier each day, thick with whispers that sliced through her like daggers. Seraphina kept her head down as she walked the halls, but the words still found her.

  “I heard Umbra fixed the anomaly, not Seraphina.”

  “They say Umbra begged her to stop. Reckless as always. Thinks she’s better than everyone. Nearly destroyed Nyxara with those others.”

  Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. Why wasn’t anyone questioning Umbra’s version of events? Why wasn’t anyone asking why she had been there? Why had the Veil had grown more unstable after her interference? Where were the professors?

  She quickened her pace, shaking off their judgment, but each step felt heavier. Each whisper, a reminder that they were turning away from her.

  As she rounded the corner, voices spilled from the faculty lounge—sharp, familiar.

  “…if these rumors are true, can they be trusted with Aetheria’s future? I’m just saying—”

  “Keep your voice down,” another interrupted. “But yes, there’s talk about… reevaluating their readiness.”

  Her breath caught. They’re questioning us.

  She stopped, pressing her hands against her temples as their doubt settled in her chest, heavy as stone. Lumos' disappointment, lingering after their observation of Alessa’s effortless guardianship with Caelithor, had been a constant weight. But it wasn’t just Lumos. It was the academy. The professors. Even her friends. The rift in the Veil had fractured everything, despite their success in repairing it.

  Alessa had grown distant, her bond with Caelithor pulling her focus away from their friendship. Seraphina’s offer to train together had been turned down. Thorne… his silence was worse than any argument. He’d retreated into his music as if it could shield him from the turmoil. From her.

  I’m failing them all.

  The thought pressed against her ribs, suffocating. She fought the urge to scream.

  Then, a distant melody broke through—the haunting, sorrowful notes of Thorne’s lute, drifting from a nearby practice room. She paused, listening. The music spoke of his frustration, his doubt, woven into every string. It was the only way he could channel his confusion, his sense of being sidelined.

  She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rush to him, to fix things. But she knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

  The music stopped, and footsteps echoed in the hall. She didn’t turn in time to see the faculty member rounding the corner, but their words cut through the air.

  “Thorne’s performance at the upcoming concert will be critical for his acceptance into the Conservatory. It could be the breakthrough he needs—especially with the right guest artist.”

  Her chest tightened. Guest artist?

  She wanted to ask more, but the figure vanished, leaving her alone in the empty hallway. The concert. Thorne’s performance. It should have felt like a brief escape, a moment of normality. Instead, in this atmosphere of distrust, it brought both dread and hope. Could it help him find himself again? Or would it push him further away?

  “How do I prove myself when everyone’s already decided I’m a failure?” Seraphina sighed, her voice hollow in the empty corridor.

  Lumos hovered beside her, her soft glow flickering in rhythm with Seraphina’s turmoil. But within that steady warmth was something reassuring—unspoken confidence that eased the tightness in Seraphina’s chest.

  “You don’t fix it for them,” Lumos said, her voice firm yet gentle. “You figure out who you are.” The glow brightened, filling the hallway with warmth that pulsed like a heartbeat. “I didn’t choose you for perfection. I chose you because you rise. That’s what matters.”

  Seraphina blinked, stunned into silence. Rise? After everything?

  She nodded slowly. This isn’t about their expectations. It’s about what I choose to do next.

  A surge of determination welled up inside her. I’ll prove it. I’ll show them what I’m capable of.

  “I’ll try,” she murmured, the weight of it sitting heavily on her chest. It wasn’t a promise, but it was something—a step forward. For now, it was all she could offer.

  Lumos’ light softened, steady and familiar.

  “Good. That’s a start. Just remember—you’re stronger than their whispers. Rise.”

  The challenge hung in the air, but beneath it was something more—an invitation to rise, despite the odds, and find who she truly was.

  Seraphina stood still for a moment, eyes closed as Lumos’ words settled in. Her pulse quickened, but beneath it, a quiet clarity took root. The path ahead had never been easy, but now, with the academy fractured and trust fraying, every step felt like a choice between falling or rising.

  When she opened her eyes, the silence around her seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her to make a choice. She straightened, pressing her hand against the cool stone wall.

  One step at a time. She couldn’t fix everything all at once, but she could start with herself. Find clarity in the chaos.

  Seraphina continued walking down the corridor, but a voice ahead stopped her—Professor Stellaris, unmistakable in her authority. Who was she speaking with? Headmistress Magdalene? Seraphina froze, pressing against the nearest pillar, her pulse quickening as curiosity and dread mingled. What could they be discussing?

  A flicker of celestial energy brushed her senses, subtle but unmistakable. It was rare for Stellaris to let her power show so openly.

  Then Stellaris’s voice cut through the tension, firm and sharp.

  “Seraphina isn’t weak—she’s learning.”

  Magdalene’s voice was cold, controlled, laced with subtle tension.

  “Umbra claims Seraphina endangered the mission—and others corroborate her account.”

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  “Others?” Stellaris scoffed. “I suspect those ‘others’ have been listening more to Umbra’s version than the truth. Let me remind you, Headmistress, that Umbra wasn’t the one to close the rift on Nyxara. That was Seraphina and her companions. Sylvorel and Astra saw it too. Whatever flaws those students may have, they did what needed to be done.”

  Magdalene’s smile was thin, her eyes unreadable.

  “And yet, there are still questions, Isolde. Questions that could jeopardize everything we’ve worked for.”

  Stellaris stepped closer, her midnight-blue hair shimmering faintly.

  “Don’t mistake me for a fool, Magdalene. You’ve been quick to disregard Seraphina’s actions, but we both know the truth is far murkier than Umbra’s convenient version. Do not let her spin her web unchecked.”

  Magdalene’s eyes hardened.

  “Success doesn’t erase instability. Seraphina’s link to her powers is unpredictable. We can’t afford weakness.”

  Seraphina’s heart sank. Instability. The word twisted like a dagger.

  Stellaris’s energy crackled with restrained intensity.

  “Seraphina isn’t weak,” she repeated, her voice cool but filled with quiet conviction. “And I would have thought you, of all people, would understand the danger of undermining students who are still finding their footing.” Her voice dropped, edged with disappointment. “But it seems you’ve chosen to foster division instead.”

  Magdalene’s expression tightened, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “I do what is necessary to protect this academy—and Aetheria.”

  “And I do what is necessary to protect my students,” Stellaris retorted, her voice sharp. “Including protecting them from baseless accusations.”

  Magdalene’s composure cracked, her voice low and venomous.

  “Baseless accusations? You’re blinded by sentimentality, Isolde. Seraphina’s powers are unstable, and you know it.”

  A chill ran down Seraphina’s spine. Unstable. The word stung more than she cared to admit, but it was Stellaris’s reaction that made her stomach twist. The crack in Stellaris’s calm was unmistakable—raw, painful.

  “Don’t you dare,” Stellaris hissed, stepping forward, her voice trembling with anger. “Thalios didn’t believe in sacrifice—he believed in us. He trusted us to find another way. And we failed him because you were too quick to see him as expendable.”

  Thalios. The name hit Seraphina like a bolt of lightning. Her breath caught, a whirlwind of emotions sweeping through her. Was he the third member of their group? The one Stellaris had lost at the Veil? It seemed this person who had been part of Magdalene and Stellaris’s past might hold more answers than she'd expected.

  Magdalene’s face was unreadable, but her lips tightened at the mention of Thalios. The silence that followed was thick with guilt and unspoken pain, and Seraphina could feel the weight of it pressing down on her.

  She turned away, her robes billowing behind her like a gathering storm. Without a word, she walked off, leaving the air thick with tension.

  Stellaris stood motionless for a moment, then turned toward Seraphina’s hiding place, her voice softer now, laced with sadness.

  “Seraphina,” she called. “You can come out now.”

  Seraphina stepped forward, eyes wide with confusion.

  “Professor… What did she mean?”

  Stellaris’s gaze softened, but there was something unreadable in it.

  “Come with me,” she said urgently, her tone kind but firm. “There’s something you need to understand.”

  They walked to Stellaris’s office in silence. The air inside felt thicker than usual, as if the room itself was holding its breath. Seraphina perched on the edge of her chair, fingers twisting nervously in her lap. Star charts and ancient tomes hummed softly around her, the shelves lined with artifacts that seemed to watch, their light distant and indifferent.

  Stellaris studied Seraphina in silence, her gaze sharp. After a long moment, she knelt and placed a hand on Seraphina’s shoulder—warm but firm.

  “You’re afraid,” she said softly.

  Seraphina swallowed, the weight of doubt pressing down on her chest. Her voice cracked.

  “Professor, who is Thalios? Why does Headmistress Magdalene think I’m unstable? Am I a danger? Should I even be here?”

  Stellaris’s eyes darkened, her voice low and deliberate.

  “You’re not a danger. But the path you walk is. Too much is expected of you. It’s not fair.”

  The silence stretched between them before Stellaris spoke again, her voice softer.

  “There’s more you need to know. About the academy. About the past. But this stays between us. Understand?”

  Seraphina nodded, a chill creeping in as Stellaris withdrew into herself. Her presence, once warm, now seemed dimmed.

  “Thalios, Magdalene, and I... We were inseparable once,” Stellaris murmured. “The brightest students of our time. But we were sent on a mission to seal the rift, none of us knew how far its power reached.”

  “Thalios…” Seraphina whispered, the name hanging in the air between them like a ghost.

  Stellaris’s face darkened. She stared at the floor, her voice quiet, controlled. “He sacrificed himself. Not by choice. Magdalene convinced him. She believed the ends justified the means.”

  Seraphina’s heart slammed in her chest.

  “But why would she—”

  “She was blinded by her conviction.” Stellaris’s voice grew taut. “And I failed him. We both did.” Her gaze lifted to meet Seraphina’s, something flickering there—a warning. “But you’re not him. And I won’t let you walk that path.”

  Seraphina swallowed, the weight of her professor’s words settling heavily in her stomach.

  “What about Umbra?” she asked, almost afraid to know the answer. “Is she part of this?”

  Stellaris’s jaw tightened.

  “Umbra’s power is tied to the shadows, to the things that twist and cloud judgment. I don’t know her full intentions, but I know this: shadows never stay still. They move, and they change everything they touch. And Magdalene? She’s letting it happen.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “How can I stop her—or protect anyone—if I can’t even control myself?”

  Stellaris smiled, the warmth of it stark against the icy dread crawling up Seraphina’s spine.

  'You don’t have to do it alone. Trust in Alessa and Thorne. They are your strength, as you are theirs. And trust in yourself. You’ve already done more than most could ever hope to.'

  Her voice softened, a quiet longing in her words.

  “I know what it’s like to be chosen, Seraphina. To feel unprepared. But you were chosen for a reason. And one day, you’ll understand why.”

  As Stellaris spoke, her gaze drifted to the shadows at the edge of the room, her mind seemingly elsewhere. Seraphina’s thoughts raced, trying to make sense of it all. Had Magdalene known from the start? The idea chilled her, but she couldn’t shake it. There was too much at stake.

  She opened her mouth to ask more, but the weight of Stellaris’s words, the unspoken history between them, kept her silent.

  Stellaris gave her a small, understanding nod.

  “Go now. Find your friends.”

  Seraphina exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging.

  “Thank you, Professor. For everything.”

  With one last look at Stellaris, she stepped into the hallway, the weight of the professor’s trust pressing heavily on her chest. She knew she was about to betray it, but there was no other choice. The others had to know.

  Her breath caught as she braced herself. I’ll find them. The distance between them wouldn’t fix itself. Alessa had withdrawn, her frustration clear; Thorne was wrapped in silence. But Seraphina wasn’t about to let it tear them apart. She needed them now more than ever.